


That Accent Is Definitely A Superpower

by ozhawk



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Because superspeed, Darcy is the Tower Mom, F/M, Meet-Cute, Pietro is a Human Vibrator, Porn, Sexy Accent, Smut, Super-sex, sad childhood, why hasn't anyone else thought of this?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-21
Updated: 2015-04-25
Packaged: 2018-03-18 21:20:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3584472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ozhawk/pseuds/ozhawk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <strong>So, I totally intended to write something completely different when I got up yesterday morning. And then I saw the new Avengers clip where they SAY STUFF. And I heard THAT accent.</strong>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>  <strong>My knees melted. And so, I think, would Darcy’s.</strong></p><p>  <strong>So here. Have a bit of Darcy/Pietro porn. And there’s also Clint/Wanda happening, because I’m getting definite Clint/Wanda feels from the trailers.</strong></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Here's a link for the trailer, if you didn't already see it...  
> 

 

“You bringing in strays again, Clint?” Darcy folded her arms and stared at the archer as he collapsed on the couch. A puff of grey dust wafted up around him – while this room didn’t have holes in the walls, the whole Tower was still a mess. She raised her brows as the dark-haired girl who’d followed him in curled up beside him, uncaring of the dust, and Clint wrapped an arm around her. “What – you got a girlfriend? Go Hawkeye!”

“This is Wanda,” Clint said wearily. “That’s Pietro. Her twin brother. Guys, this is Darcy.”

“Huh,” Darcy looked from the dark-haired, dark-eyed, delicately built girl snuggling up to Clint, to the tall, nicely muscled, white-haired, blue-eyed guy still standing uncertainly by the door. “Well, go figure. You two don’t look anything alike.”

“A lot of people say that,” Pietro said, and Darcy’s knees gave out.

She’d always thought that was just a figure of speech. That just the sound of a sexy voice couldn’t _literally_ make one’s knees do that.

But. His. _Voice_. It was low and husky, accented with something – Russian? Czech? Whatever, it was the sexiest voice she’d ever heard.

“Darce?” she heard Clint’s startled voice as she sagged towards the floor, and then suddenly a pair of strong arms were wrapping around her. She looked up into blue eyes, his handsome, angular face frowning down at her with concern.

“How did you get over here that fast?”

“It’s kind of my thing,” Pietro responded, and, yup. No better the second time. Darcy’s knees still didn’t work.

“Oh. I thought it might be your voice,” she said a bit faintly.

“My _voice_?” he looked blank.

Curled in the safety of Clint’s arms, Wanda began to giggle wearily. “I think she likes your accent, Pietro.”

Wanda had the same accent. Of course. From her it sounded sultry and seductive, like a Bond villainess or something, and had Clint leaning in to kiss her thoroughly.

“That accent’s definitely a superpower,” Darcy stared up at Pietro, who started to grin.

“You think so?” his eyes raked down her appreciatively. Darcy wished she was wearing something a little nicer than cutoff denim shorts and a scruffy old tank top, but there was a _lot_ of cleaning to do in the Tower, and Pepper didn’t trust anyone who wasn’t on or attached to the team on these floors. Darcy had been busy dusting everything in here off, preparing to get the vacuum out, when Clint and his two sexy Eastern European strays wandered in.

Mind you, Pietro didn’t look as though he was complaining. Not considering the way his sweeping gaze had stalled at her cleavage.

“And what’s your superpower, _mei_ _ča_?”Pietro murmured, looking down at the pretty young woman in his arms. Her hands had settled on his biceps where she – was she _feeling him up_? He arched his eyebrows.

“I once Tasered Thor,” Darcy said, testing Pietro’s arms. _Mmm. Muscly_. He raised his eyebrows at her and she realised that he knew what she was up to. She smiled unrepentantly and was encouraged when he smiled back.

And then he said, “Will you stop that?”

“Oh,” she dropped her hands sheepishly. “Sorry…”

“Not _you_. You can do _that_ all you like.” His grin was decidedly wolfish before he looked back over the top of her head again. “Hawkeye, _please_. I’ve _asked_ you not to do revolting things like that to my sister where I can see. Get a room.”

“My apartment’s wrecked,” Clint grumbled, easing his hands reluctantly out from under Wanda’s blouse. She let out a grumpy sound too and glared at her brother.

“Clint, why didn’t you just ask JARVIS? There’s a guest apartment prepared for you on Level 58, your place should be fully fixed up in a couple of days…”

Clint dragged himself wearily to his feet, held out a hand to Wanda. “Thanks, Darce. Laters.”

Wanda accepted the outstretched hand and smiled at her brother. “ _Ir jautri_ , Pietro,” she said in a laughing tone before following Clint out of the room.

“ _Gulēt labi_ ,”Pietro responded with a chuckle.

“I’ll let her sleep. Eventually,” Clint called back before the elevator doors pinged shut behind them.

“He’s an asshole,” Pietro sighed and looked back down at Darcy, “but my sister’s fallen head over heels for him. What can I do?”

“He’s not so bad,” Darcy disagreed, “and his arms are a work of art.”

“I can’t say I’d noticed,” he murmured, his eyes drawn back down to her cleavage again as she shifted against him. “Are you going to collapse again if I let you go?”

“Only if you keep talking,” Darcy said honestly, “your accent is panty-melting.”

“Is it really?” his voice dropped a little lower. “Any panties in particular?”

She licked her lips and his blue eyes fastened on them. Darcy had to take a deep breath. “Look, stud, while you’re gorgeous and that accent is causing me to have absolutely disgraceful thoughts…”

“I can almost hear the ‘but’ coming,” he muttered sadly.

“We just met. And you must be tired, everyone else is wrecked after the fight…”

Pietro shook his head. “No. My powers mean I don’t get tired easily.”

“You… don’t?” She’d thought he couldn’t get any more pants-wettingly sexy. “This – this could get awkward afterwards, though…”

“Only if the sex is bad. Which it won’t be.” His eyes hooded slightly.

“Nnnn,” Darcy said eloquently, and he smiled and kissed her. “My. Apartment. Floor. 66,” she managed to get out a couple of minutes later, in between searing kisses.

“Not 69?” his grin was absolutely filthy as he scooped her up ( _go, muscles_!) and carried her towards the elevator.

“Stark thought 66 was more my speed, actually, but I like the way you think,” Darcy leaned her head against his shoulder.

The elevator doors slid open to reveal a weary-looking Steve. Whose eyebrows shot up as Pietro carried Darcy into the elevator.

“Are you feeling all right, Darcy?” Steve asked with concern.

“Yes. Fine. All good here.” She hid her face against Pietro’s shoulder, wriggled a little hopefully that he might take the hint and put her down. He only tightened his grip around her and smirked at Steve.

“We are perfectly fine here, thank you, Captain.”

“You and Darcy have met before…?” Steve looked bemused.

“No, we just met. But now we’re going to go and have extremely good sex.”

The doors pinged open on Darcy’s floor, and her last sight of Steve was of the poor man’s mouth hanging open as he did an excellent impression of a carp.

“You’re a troll,” she discovered, “you _enjoyed_ shocking him.”

“Did you see his face?” Pietro snickered, and Darcy couldn’t help giggling along with him. She pointed at her door and he carried her over; JARVIS considerately opened it before they got there.

“Cheers, J,” Darcy said.

Pietro looked warily up. “You’re talking to the AI?”

“Yes, but don’t worry, this one’s not going to go all Skynet on us like Ultron,” Darcy reassured.

“Hm,” he sounded deeply unconfident about that, so she distracted him by winding her arms around his neck and kissing him. “Mm,” the sound changed to hunger, and he eased her down to set her on her feet, pressing her up against the wall.

Darcy couldn’t quite help a quiet little mew in her throat as Pietro kissed her very thoroughly indeed, his tongue licking delicately into her mouth, large capable hands settling on her hips as he ground lightly against her. He was about six foot, taller than her by a good eight inches, and she was soon getting a crick in her neck.

“Bed,” Darcy gasped, “Pietro…” her hands had settled on his shoulders, kneading and stroking the solid muscle through the stretchy blue-grey top he was wearing.

“Yes, _mei_ _ča_ ,” he muttered against her throat, “where is that, exactly?”

She’d lost the will to do anything but slide her hands up under his shirt, and he grinned and leaned back, crossing his arms at his waist and then dragging the skin-tight material up and off over his head.

“Oh, _hello_ ,” Darcy murmured admiringly, tracing her fingertips lightly across his beautifully defined six-pack.

“Hello, yourself.” He had large, capable hands: one of them cupped her cheek now, tilted her face up. “Now, where’s that bed?”

Darcy’s knees sagged again and he chuckled darkly and caught her with his free arm around her waist. “My accent really does do good things for you, doesn’t it?”

“Where are you from? I must never ever go there because my brain would stop functioning entirely.”

His smile was a little sad. “Latvia, originally. There is no home for me there now, though. Nobody left to go back to.”

“Sounds like a typical superhero,” Darcy said with a wry smile, “lost everyone you ever cared about?”

“Except my sister. And I’ve lost her too now in a way, because I think she and Barton are serious.”

The conversation was taking a turn for the serious, so Darcy ran her fingers lower down his stomach, grabbed hold of his belt buckle and tugged, taking a step backwards. The dirty grin returned to Pietro’s face and he followed immediately, never lowering his arm from around her.

Darcy backed all the way to her bedroom, looking up into Pietro’s blue eyes the whole way. He broke eye contact for a moment as they entered the room, sweeping his gaze around in a quick comprehensive glance she recognised as a threat assessment.

But there was nothing threatening in her bedroom, nothing weirder than her collection of Avengers Funko figures on a shelf. His gaze snagged on them for a moment.

“They’ll probably make one of you,” Darcy noted.

“Yes? Will you keep it in your bedroom, watch over you while you sleep? I think I’d rather you kept _me_ in your bedroom,” he returned, backing her towards the bed. His hand started easing up the hem of her tank top, and Darcy smiled as the backs of her knees hit the edge of the mattress.

“Are you offering to be my sex slave?”

“Sounds like a good gig,” but his eyes were fixed on her breasts as he pulled her tank top up and Darcy lifted her arms to let him pull it off over her head. She was wearing a plain white cotton bra (because cleaning!) but Pietro didn’t seem to care, his eyes darkening as he looked at the way it barely contained her breasts.

“ _Damn_ ,” he breathed. “I really wasn’t expecting _this_ today. Obviously it really _is_ my lucky day.”

Darcy smiled, pleased by the compliment and the look in his eyes. Crooking an arm behind her back, she unclipped her bra and watched his lips part as her breasts tumbled free. He mumbled a whole string of guttural words she didn’t understand – Latvian, she presumed – before pushing up against her, pressing her down on the bed and bringing himself down atop her, reaching to caress her breasts with those large, strong hands she was beginning to quite desperately feel the need to have _all_ over her.

“You’re beautiful,” Pietro murmured thickly, thumbs flicking lightly over her nipples, teasing until they were proud and stiff. “Very, very beautiful.” Looking up to her eyes, he gave her that asshole-grin she was beginning to really rather like. “Fabulous rack, too.”

Darcy started to laugh. Ran her hands into Pietro’s thick hair. “You’re going to be trouble, blondie, I can just tell.”

“The good kind of trouble,” he leaned down to her breasts, flicked his tongue over her nipple quickly. Really quickly. And then did it again, about twenty times in three seconds.

“What the _oh fuck_ , that feels really good,” Darcy panted. Pietro smirked – and _vibrated_ his finger over her other nipple.

“A useful side effect of my gift,” he murmured. “Want to see what else I can vibrate?”

 _I am in so. much. trouble_.

“This,” Darcy panted as he removed her shorts and panties, traced his fingers lightly between her thighs and grinned at the wetness he found there, “was why you were so convinced that the sex was going to be good.”

“Mm.” He applied a blunt fingertip to her clit, started chafing rapidly. “Just need to figure out what speed works for you.”

“That’ll do just fine _oh God_!” Darcy suspected her shriek shook the window. Pietro was laughing quietly, and then he eased down the bed, slid two fingers deep inside her and started pumping rapidly, his tongue vibrating over her clit.

She was helpless to do anything but come again, and _again_. He watched her reactions, speeding up or slowing down the movements of his fingers or tongue depending on the noises she was making. After the third orgasm, he sat up and eased off his boots and pants.

“You got protection, Darcy?” Pietro asked quietly.

“Uhn,” she raised a languid hand, a few strands of blond hair still caught in her fingers – she might have pulled a _bit_ hard there, but _really_ , if he was going to do _that_ – and waved it vaguely in the direction of the bedside table. Heard him scrabble in the drawer, and then the rip of foil. A soft hiss of breath as he rolled the condom on, and she opened her eyes to look.

His cock was as handsome as the rest of him, long and solid. Darcy licked her lips.

“Next time,” Pietro murmured, and she realised he was watching her, blue eyes hot on her face. “Next time, I’d love to have you put that pretty mouth on me. But right now I’m absolutely desperate to fuck you.”

“Sounds good,” she agreed, still a little dazed. But not so much that she didn’t stare, wide-eyed, as he positioned himself between her legs, pressing the thick head of his cock slowly into her.

_There is a gorgeous. Extremely cut. Super-hero. Desperate. To fuck. ME._

_My life is complete._

He leaned in and kissed her, his stubble rasping her chin, and Darcy absolutely didn’t care that his mouth tasted of her. Not considering how good his cock felt as he slid steadily deeper. Strong hands on her hips adjusted her as he searched for just the right spot, and then her mouth fell open, her neck arching back as he found it.

“Oh fuuuuuck yessss,” Darcy panted, and Pietro let out a husky laugh.

“That the spot, _mei_ _ča_?”

“Nnnn!” she let out a whine as he began to move, carefully at first, and then faster, _faster_ , his hands bracing her as he _vibrated_ in and out of her.

It felt _inconceivably_ good. Darcy could never have imagined anything like it, and when he slipped a hand in between them and vibrated a fingertip over her clit again she lost it totally, squealing and sobbing like a madwoman as the most intense orgasm she’d ever felt blew her away. She wasn’t even aware of Pietro’s low groan as he stiffened and surged inside her one last time.

Darcy came slowly back to awareness cuddled in Pietro’s arms, him spooned up behind her.

“You all right, _mei_ _ča_?” he murmured gently as she sighed and moved, placing one hand over his where it rested on her stomach.

“No. You broke me,” she teased, “that was completely and utterly cheating, using a superpower during sex.”

She felt him grin against her hair. “Just making sure you’ll be interested in giving me a second go-around.”

“It _is_ going to be awkward,” Darcy murmured.

“What is?” she felt him stiffen behind her, and then he said reluctantly, “Do you want me to go?”

“Hell no!” she turned over to look at him, saw to her horror uncertainty on his face. “After that? Come on, no way am I letting you go easy! I just think it’s going to get awkward because I’m going to get addicted to you so fast, and you’re gonna realise I’m just ordinary, I’m completely out of my depth here…”

He shut her up with a kiss, slow and searing. “Do you know, Wanda was jealous about you because Clint kept talking about you? Steve talked about you too, so did Bruce. The word they all used was _home_. Darcy makes the Tower _home_. She always makes our favourite cookies and brownies, she remembers everyone’s birthday and organises the things we like, she sources the bizarre herbal tea that Bruce likes and finds foods that Steve didn’t think were even made any more…”

Darcy’s blue eyes were wide as she stared at Pietro, her lips parted in an O of shock. “They – said that?”

“They did. I was very much looking forward to meeting you.” He hesitated, his arms tightening around her for a moment. “It’s been so long since I had a home,” he said in a low voice. “Wanda has Clint now, and I was – I was hoping that you’d adopt me like you have the other Avengers, make this a home for me too – and then I saw you and I couldn’t understand why the _hell_ none of them mentioned how _utterly fucking gorgeous_ you are.”

It was far, far too early to fall in love with him. But Darcy could already feel herself teetering on the precipice. She reached up, threaded both hands into his thick silvery hair, and pulled him closer for a thorough kiss.

“So,” she said when she let him up for air, “What _is_ your favourite flavour of cookies, then?”

The look in his eyes broke her heart. “I don’t know. Nobody ever made any for us.”

Darcy had to take a deep breath. _Not going to cry. NOT going to cry_. “Then we shall have to find out. And your birthday? Please tell me you know when your birthday is, or I really will cry…”

His smile was twisted. “I’m afraid Wanda and I were abandoned with the Romani tribe who raised us, when we were only babies. Whoever our parents were didn’t bother to leave that information.”

“Oh _Pietro_ ,” she whispered, and the tears for him and Wanda really did spill.

“Don’t cry,” he muttered, leaning in to kiss away the tears.

“We’re going to make you a birthday,” Darcy said fiercely, wiping at her face. “We’ll choose a holiday you like. Latvian Independence Day, or International Talk Like A Pirate Day, or something cool like that. And I’m going to throw the two of you the biggest and best damned birthday party _ever_.”

“I like the sound of that,” he murmured, a slow grin building. “And then I’m going to thank you. Properly.”

“I’ve got some ideas for how you could do _that_ ,” she smiled up at him.

“Yeah? Why don’t you tell me about them?” One big hand curved over her bottom, pulled her against him, and she felt that he was already hardening again.

 _Go, superhero stamina!_ Darcy thought, but aloud she said; “Just keep talking, Pietro.”

“See, you really are my perfect woman. You’re the only one I’ve ever met who doesn’t tell me to shut up when I start yapping away.”

“Quite the opposite,” Darcy grinned. “You can talk as much as you like. I promise I’ll never complain. I can’t promise I’ll always listen to the actual words, though, sometimes I’ll just be glazing over because your accent makes my knees go weak.”

“Literally.”

 

 


	2. Cookies and Angst and Smut

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, pretty much what it says on the tin...

Cherry choc-chip turned out to be Pietro’s favourite cookies. Wanda liked the cinnamon-ginger spiced ones that Darcy’s grandmother had taught her how to make. They discovered this over one long, joyous Sunday morning a few days later in the common kitchen in the Tower (after it had been fixed up again, damn you Ultron) when Darcy made about sixty trays of cookies in order for the twins to sample them all.

Even Steve, Thor and Pietro (who’d turned out to require insane amounts of food to fuel his superfast metabolism) couldn’t go through that many cookies before they went stale, though Thor was enthused about the idea of giving it a red-hot go. Jane, knowing what Thor was like when he’d had too much sugar, distracted him with the promise of doing wicked things with chocolate frosting, stole a bowl of leftover said frosting and towed the enthusiastic demi-god out.

“What the hell are we going to do with all these cookies?” Clint said from his perch on top of the fridge. He’d taken a stash of his favourite jaffa cookies up there with him to keep them safe from the marauding heroes. Wanda leaned against the fridge with a little smile on her face, nibbling on another spiced cookie.

“Photo op,” Pepper said from her seat at the table, around a mouthful of rum-spiked brown sugar cookie. “We could use some good press. Everyone suit up and we’ll go visit a children’s hospital and hand out cookies.”

“I’d better make some diabetic ones and some gluten-free ones then too,” Darcy mumbled, pushing her hair back from her face with a floury hand. “Can we do it tomorrow? I’ll need more ingredients, and these won’t go stale before then…”

“Gives me time to set things up. Sounds like a plan.” Pepper stood up and kissed Darcy’s cheek, wiping off the smear of flour her hand had left behind. “Tomorrow then. Everybody.”

“Not me…” Bruce said, pausing with his half-eaten piece of green tea shortbread just outside his mouth.

“Not you, no. You can help, though. Frankly you’re the only one apart from Darcy who can cook. And we’re going to need a lot more cookies.”

Pietro eased in behind Darcy, where she stood looking distractedly through her recipe book (Grandma Lewis’s recipe book, well-loved, with lots of extra recipes stuck in between pages) and slipped an arm around her waist. “Let me help, _mei_ _ča_. What can I do?” He nuzzled lightly at her ear, and she leaned back against him, turned her head to smile up at him.

“You can stop doing that, for starters. And don’t talk. You know how distracting I find it and if I’m going to make lots more cookies…”

He chuckled, nibbled at her neck. “I could distract you for a little while first…”

A chunk of coconut macaroon thrown by Sam bounced off the back of his head. “Knock it off, we eat in here, you know the rules!”

Pietro sighed, rested his chin atop Darcy’s head. “All right, _mei_ _ča_ , we’ll leave the enthusiastic ravishing for later,” he murmured, for Darcy’s ears alone, making her blush and laugh. “What do you need me to do?”

“You could go speedily pick up more supplies for me - I’m going to need more butter. And brown sugar, and quinoa flour for the gluten-free, and eggs, and _where_ is that darn diabetic cookie recipe I had?” she scowled, flicked pages again. Pietro reached around her, flickered pages in a blur, dropped it open at the recipe she was looking for.

“See? Useful.”

Darcy couldn’t quite resist turning to give him a kiss, even though it caused groans and shouts of;

“Not in the _kitchen_!” from just about everybody.

Darcy grinned against Pietro’s mouth.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The visit to the children’s hospital was amazing. Darcy refused to let Pepper mention that she was the cookie baker – everyone had ended up helping in the end anyway, even Natasha and Tony who were not trusted to cook anything ever, were roped into package the cookies up for delivery. Tony promptly started designing a cookie-packaging machine until Natasha smacked him repeatedly on the back of the head.

Pietro and Wanda had been officially Avengers for less than a week – but there had been plenty of shaky-cam cellphone footage of the final confrontation with Ultron, and the fan collective outside the Tower had already developed a smattering of platinum blonds in stretchy blue-grey shirts and long-haired brunettes with gothy jewellery and red leather jackets.

The very first little girl they met in the hospital – a frail little thing with no hair and yellowing skin stretched over her bones – on being asked who her favourite Avenger was, whispered;

“The Scarlet Witch. Because she’s got _magic_.”

Wanda had to hide behind Clint’s broad back until she got her tears under control. And then she took a few deep breaths, popped her head out from behind Clint and gave the little girl a smile. The smile she got in return lit up the room.

Pietro was the only one who saw the red glow around Wanda’s fingers as she sat down on the bed with a bag of cookies and a storybook in her hands. He raised eyebrows at her – _should you be doing that?_ – and got a bland look in return.

Well. It wasn’t as though he could stop her. He hung back by the doorway as the others moved on, though. If she pushed the probabilities too hard – and he was no doctor but he could see that little girl was near the end – Wanda could seriously hurt herself. He watched carefully for the telltale trickle of blood from her nose, but it didn’t come, and after a few minutes she laid the sleeping child down gently and stood up.

“Was that wise?” Pietro said quietly as Wanda came to his side, slipped her free hand into his.

“I don’t care if it was or not.” Wanda’s jaw jutted stubbornly, and then she squeezed his fingers. “Some people might say I’m interfering with God’s plan. But – it’s no gentle God that allows a child to die like that. Not a God I’ll choose to follow. We’ve met gods, Pietro,” she nodded at Thor, on his knees further down the corridor, laughing his booming laugh as he sneakily pushed a finger under Mjolnir so that a little boy in a red cape could lift it after Iron Man had once again failed to do so.

“Asgardians,” Pietro corrected.

“The same thing, apparently. You’re not going to change my mind, brother.”

“When could I ever? Just – don’t do too much. You can’t help them all.”

“No,” Wanda agreed. “But I can try. This is my _chance_ ,” the look she turned up to him was starry-eyed. “Maybe my _one_ chance, to make up for some of the trouble I’ve caused. Wipe out some of the red in my ledger, as Nat would say.”

Pietro sighed as he watched her walk away and kneel down beside a boy in a wheelchair, his legs thin and twisted beneath a folded blanket. The red glow formed around her fingers again.

“Is she doing what I think she’s doing?” Clint slipped up beside him a moment later.

“Mm-hm. Wish she’d stop…”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Clint’s blue-grey eyes were adoring as he stared at Wanda. “Out of all of us, she’s got something that can be used for good purposes, not just killing, and you want her to _stop_? Hell no.”

“If she uses too much of her power she’ll burn herself out, Clint!” Pietro hissed in his ear. “Watch her. If her eyes start to get bloodshot you’ll need to _make_ her stop.”

One startled glance at him, and Clint was nodding, walking over to stand beside Wanda. Pietro sighed. Maybe Wanda would listen to Clint. She certainly never listened to _him_.

A tiny hand tugged at his pants. Startled, Pietro glanced down and looked into a pair of eyes as blue as his own, pale blond hair in two long braids. There was a plastic tube running up into the little girl’s nose.

“Are you Quicksilver, mister?”

“Yes,” he said a little uncertainly. “My real name’s Pietro, though.”

“Cool,” the tiny blonde beamed at him enthusiastically, and he found himself smiling back. He’d not had much to do with small children since they left the Romani, and little enough before that. Dropping to one knee so that he was at her eye level, he asked;

“Are you allowed a cookie?” They’d been told to check first, just in case. All the children on this floor were old enough to know whether or not they were allowed them, and which type.

“’Fraid not. But you could give me a kiss.” He laughed in surprise, leaned in and kissed her pale cheek. She smiled sunnily. “Thanks. I’m gonna tell all my friends that Quicksilver kissed me, they’ll all be jealous. They think you’re really cool.”

“Am I?”

“Well, yes, because you’re like The Flash, only _real_.” Another sunny smile. “I’m Sarah. Have you got a girlfriend? I could be your girlfriend.”

Pietro glanced across the room, spotted Darcy handing another bag of cookies to Steve, who was utterly swamped with children. She saw him talking with Sarah and smiled at him. “I do, I’m sorry. Well, there’s a girl I like, anyway. I hope she’s my girlfriend. I didn’t actually ask her, exactly.”

“Hm,” Sarah cocked her head. “Does she let you kiss her?”

“Er, sometimes?” _Oh God, please don’t ask me what else Darcy lets me do to her_ … not that he’d had all that much opportunity, regrettably. Everyone was just so damn busy, Darcy even more than most, as she worked for Stark Industries’ PR department and there was a lot of spin to do on the Ultron disaster.

“Then she’s your girlfriend. Even if you have been silly and not asked her. Is that her over there, the pretty girl with the blue eyes and the beanie?”

“Yes – how old are you?”

“Six.”

“And your superpower is being really observant?”

Sarah smirked at him. “Wasn’t difficult. You keep staring at her. Come on. I’m going to be your wingwoman.” A tiny, frail hand slipped into his and tugged. Bemused, Pietro stood and let her lead him over to Darcy.

“What’s her name?” Sarah whispered as they arrived.

“Darcy,” Pietro replied.

“Darcy, Pietro’s got something really important to ask you,” Sarah said point-blank.

Darcy’s eyes widened. A nearby nurse muffled a squeal. “Omigod we’re about to witness an Avengers proposal!”

Pietro went bright red and wanted to sink through the floor. Debated using his speed to flee the scene, but Sarah was still holding on to his hand. “No! I – no, oh shi – _sugar_ , I’m gonna stuff this up.”

“That’s because you’re a man and you’re all pretty useless. My mum says so,” Sarah said bracingly. The giggles started spreading around them and Darcy started grinning. Sarah looked up at her. “Pietro wants you to be his girlfriend.”

“Oh,” Darcy had to bite her lip to keep from laughing at the cornered look on Pietro’s face. “What do you think, should I say yes?”

Sarah cocked her head to one side. “Er – well, if you say no, I could be his girlfriend instead. But I think he really likes you, so you’d better say yes. If you like him too, that is.”

“Oh, I do. He’s really handsome, don’t you think?” Darcy said confidingly.

“Awfully.” Sarah let out a little giggle, a faint blush coming to her pale cheeks. “And he’s really nice, too.”

“I know. I think I’d better snap him up quick, huh? Especially since he does seem to have an eye for pretty blondes with long braids.” Darcy playfully tweaked one of Sarah’s braids. “His accent makes my knees go all weak.”

Pietro couldn’t help but grin at that, even though he had the horrible feeling that they were now the absolute centre of attention. There were cameras pointed at them, the press who’d been allowed in – only three, Pepper and the hospital had been extremely selective. “Darcy, _mei_ _ča_ ,” he murmured under his breath, “you sure you want to do this? Sarah’s railroaded me here, I’m sorry…”

“I think,” Darcy took a deep breath, “I think I don’t actually have a problem with letting the whole world know you’re taken.”

“Good,” Sarah said decisively. She was still holding Pietro’s hand; she grabbed Darcy’s and brought the two together. “Now you’re boyfriend and girlfriend, you have to hold hands. And you have to let him kiss you whenever he wants to,” she looked at Darcy earnestly, “or he might decide he likes me better after all.”

“Give her a kiss, Quicksilver!” the bravest – or perhaps just the pushiest – of the photographers called. Natasha gave him a death glare immediately afterwards, but the damage was done, everyone murmuring and staring.

“It’s all right,” Darcy murmured, quietly, for his ears alone, stepping closer. Reaching her free hand up to his shoulder as she looked up into his eyes. “Like I said. I don’t have a problem with letting the whole world know you’re mine.”

“And you’re mine?” He curled his arm around her waist, a smile slowly curving his mouth.

“Just get on with the kissing, we haven’t got all day,” Sarah sighed, and Darcy laughed as Pietro’s mouth came down on hers.

He kept it light, without tongue, aware of the flashes going off behind his closed eyelids. Kissing Darcy was still amazing even so, her plush lips warm and soft under his.

When he opened his eyes, Wanda was standing behind Sarah, hands on the child’s shoulders, glowing faintly red. She gave Pietro a soft smile before moving away, and Pietro sighed with relief. He really hadn’t wanted to have to go and ask, but he should have known that Wanda would guess.

Dropping back to his knees beside Sarah, he smiled at her. “Hey Sarah, thank you so much. You were a really awesome wingwoman.”

She smiled, wrapped her tiny arms around his neck and kissed his cheek. The flashes were even brighter this time.

“Way to win hearts and influence people,” Darcy turned up when he was in the gym the following morning. The photo on the front page of the magazine she waved at him was of Sarah kissing his cheek; the caption screamed _AVENGERS’ NEW HEARTTHROB BREAKING HEARTS ALL OVER TOWN_.

“Ech,” he shrugged sheepishly, suddenly aware that he was only wearing a pair of gym shorts as Darcy’s gaze roamed over his chest. “She was the heartbreaker, not me.”

“Mm. Why do I have the feeling that Sarah is one of quite a few kids from that hospital who are going to be miraculously cured over the next few months?”

“I wouldn’t know anything about that,” he studiously failed to meet her eyes.

“ _Hmmm_ ,” well, Darcy could allow herself to be distracted. Especially considering how Pietro looked sitting there on the gym bench doing bicep curls with a massive dumbbell. He didn’t bother with cardio exercises – not in the gym, anyway, though he liked to annoy Steve by lapping him around Central Park. Which Sam thought was _hilarious_.

But Pietro did like to do weights, saying something complicatedly mathematical about muscle mass multiplied by velocity equalled momentum. Darcy looked bemused and he laughed. “It just means I hit harder.”

“Okay.” She eyed the straining muscles of his arms, the single drop of sweat that pooled in the hollow of his throat. “I’m not complaining about the view.”

“Yeah?” He gave her his asshole grin, set the dumbbell down and held his hands out. “Come here then, _girlfriend_.” He deliberately thickened his accent, and Darcy helplessly sat down on the end of the gym bench. Strong hands settled on her hips as he dragged her closer, lifted her thighs over his and pulled her into his lap.

“You’re all sweaty,” Darcy complained a bit breathlessly. She hadn’t actually seen him again the previous day after their return from the hospital visit – Nick Fury had been at the Tower waiting for them, and had closeted himself with the Avengers for a meeting that lasted long into the night. Darcy had fallen asleep waiting for Pietro, and woken with the other side of the bed undisturbed. That was fairly normal. He only slept about one night in three anyway.

She’d made coffee, collected the magazine JARVIS advised was waiting for her, checked a few online blogs, and then couldn’t wait any longer. It was possibly slightly worrying that JARVIS advised her of Pietro’s location when she’d barely opened her mouth, though.

“I could get you sweaty too, _mei_ _ča,_ ” Pietro murmured, nuzzling into her neck, and Darcy totally melted. He’d shaved at some point recently, his cheek smooth as his warm lips caressed her ear.

“Someone could walk in,” she protested weakly.

“There’s a reason why I like the gym at this time of day. But if it makes you happy – JARVIS, please advise anyone seeking to access this floor that they _really_ don’t want to right now.”

“Yes, Mr Maximoff,” JARVIS said primly.

“Pietro…” Darcy tried for one last protest, but his hands were already easing up under her knit sweater, and she completely lost the will to resist.

“Shh,” he whispered against her cheek, and then he took her mouth in a hungry, fierce, possessive kiss.

Darcy moaned into his mouth. He kissed incredibly well, not pushy, just tasting, teasing and tempting with light flicks of his tongue. With his chin smooth against hers, she could have kissed him for hours – except that her ladyparts were frantically clamouring for more, especially since sitting in his lap as she was, she could very clearly feel his arousal pressing at her through the thin fabric of his gym shorts and her jeans.

One of his strong hands was in her hair, stroking through the soft dark strands, the other up her top, teasing her nipples through her bra. And then his fingers tightened and he pulled her head back, gently but firmly, arching her against him, exposing her throat so that he could work his way downwards, licking and nipping lightly.

“Ungh,” Darcy moaned again. Her hands had settled on his shoulders, squeezing and rubbing the thick muscles. He was only slightly sweaty really, and it felt good, his skin sleek under her fingers.

“Hands up,” Pietro murmured against the hollow of Darcy’s throat, and she shivered and lifted her arms, letting him take her top off. He sighed with pleasure as he looked down at her breasts, spilling from the cups of her royal-blue lace bra. “ _Such_ gorgeous boobs.” Deliberately he bent his head, nuzzled into her cleavage. “I could suffocate here a happy man,” he murmured, making Darcy giggle, right up until the moment he bit lightly at her nipple through the lace.

She made an incoherent noise again, running her fingers into his thick silvery-white hair and holding him to her; he smiled against her breast and reached behind her to unclasp her bra, continuing to worship her with his mouth.

“I don’t suppose you’ve got a condom in that oversized purse you lug around everywhere?” he murmured as she ground herself against him, frantic to get some relief from the steadily building pressure in her groin.

“Um. Yeah, probably? Might take me a minute to find it.”

“You’d better start looking then, _mei_ _ča_ , because in one minute I intend to be fucking you very thoroughly indeed,” it was a softly growled statement that had Darcy shivering in his lap, her eyes rolling back in her head.

“ _Pietro_ ,” she moaned his name as he sucked one pouting nipple deep into his mouth, rolling his tongue over it. “I can’t. Think. When you’re doing that.”

He chuckled huskily, but let go and eased her off his lap, back onto the bench, before getting up and picking up the purse she’d put on the floor when she sat down. “Here. Find it, then.”

Darcy’s hands were shaking as she searched, because Pietro didn’t leave her alone. Instead he reseated himself on the bench behind her, hands coming around in front of her and unfastening her jeans, one hand easing down inside to press into her pussy while the other played with her breasts, his hot mouth licking and sucking at her neck.

“Here,” Darcy finally gasped in triumph as her fingers closed on the foil packet. “Got it!”

“Good girl,” he plucked it from her fingers. “Now get these jeans off.”

He’d already removed his shorts, busied himself rolling the condom on as she stood on shaking legs and finished stripping. Darcy hesitated, unsure of what she should do next, but he solved her dilemma by pulling her back down on his lap, facing away from him, her thighs spread and hooked over his. She could feel his sheathed erection pressing against the small of her back.

“Pietro…?” she said a little uncertainly as his arms wrapped around her, and then one warm hand was caressing her breasts, the other sliding between her legs, to where she was spread wide open and wet, eager for him. “Oh. Ohhhh,” it was a breathy moan as he plunged his fingers deep, thumb chafing over her clit rapidly, though not yet at the super-speeds of which he was capable.

“Feel good?” Pietro whispered hotly into her ear. “Want to make you feel so good, Darcy…”

All she could do was moan and writhe as he pushed her rapidly up towards orgasm – and just as she got there, tipped over that edge, he pulled his fingers out, lifted her up and dragged her hard down onto his rigid cock.

Darcy _yowled_ , contracting around him, her back arching as her head fell back against his shoulder. Her soft mouth was open, her eyes closed; he could feel her clit throbbing against his fingertips as he vibrated them over her, prolonging her climax until she sobbed and pushed at his hand.

“Too much, please…”

“Shh, _mei_ _ča_ ,” he murmured, nibbling delicately on her earlobe. “I have you.” He waited until her tremors had subsided, until she leaned back against him utterly relaxed, before putting both hands on her breasts, teasing and plucking at her nipples until she was writhing and moaning on him again.

“That’s, uhn,” Darcy couldn’t think, not considering the way he felt inside her, hot and thick but not _moving_ , only his hands on her breasts giving her the stimulation she needed. She put her hand down herself to stroke her clit, only to have him suddenly grab both her hands and bring them to the small of her back, holding them both in one of his big ones.

“I’ll take care of you, _mei_ _ča_ ,” Pietro said softly, bending his head to nip at her shoulder lightly even as he started to vibrate his fingertip over Darcy’s clit again.

“Please,” she sobbed it, writhing frantically, “please, _move_ , Pietro, I _need_ it, I need you to fuck me…”

He let out another growl at that before letting her hands go, encouraging her to place them on the bench in front of her and lean forward – at which point he grasped both her hips in his hands and began to move, just as she’d asked, fucking into her fast and hard, looking down and staring with awed delight at the sight of his cock shuttling in and out of her soaked tunnel from behind.

“Darcy,” he groaned, close to the edge, lost in sensation. Unaware that he lost his concentration then and lapsed into his native tongue. “Oh _damn_ , Darcy, you’re so perfect, so beautiful, I’m so crazy about you, oh baby, that’s it, just there, yes, please, oh hell I’m coming…”

He was growling out guttural words she didn’t understand, except for her name, but she could guess from the tone of his voice what he was saying. All men got that strained note when they got close to the end, Pietro was no exception it seemed – he was going faster again, faster than any normal human could achieve, the friction his speed created inside her felt _utterly wonderful_ , and suddenly Darcy was flying again, garbled moans bubbling up out of her chest as he spilled inside her with a shout of her name.

Slipping out of Darcy a few moments later, Pietro gathered her gently back against him. She laid her head against his shoulder, panting softly to regain her breath as he nuzzled her throat.

“You all right, _mei_ _ča_?” he whispered softly after she’d gone quiet and relaxed against him.

“Mm,” she sighed, turned her head and kissed his jaw. “So much better than just all right.”

His arms were firmly wrapped around her, and Darcy somehow didn’t feel at all uncomfortable that they were both nude in the gym in the middle of the afternoon. Not with his breath warm on her neck as he placed soft kisses down her neck. Eyes closed, she lay still and relaxed against him. Right up until the moment when JARVIS let out a discreet chime.

“Mr Maximoff, Miss Lewis, I apologise for the interruption, but Mr Stark is most insistent that he wishes to use the gym at this time. And I am instructed to inform you that _You are disinfecting that bench, Roadrunner_!”  The last six words were a recording of Stark’s voice.

“Give us five minutes, JARVIS,” Pietro said with a sigh.

“I regret that I am unable to comply…” the elevator doors pinged and started to open.

“Stark, if you walk out of that elevator right now I will tell Pepper you deliberately pulled a Peeping Tom on us!” Darcy yelled.

The doors slid noiselessly shut again.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Everyone’s favourite cookies – because I’m weird… and I have to fill in details like this…**
> 
> **Pietro – Cherry choc-chip**
> 
> **Wanda – Cinnamon-ginger spice**
> 
> **Clint – Jaffa (orange chocolate)**
> 
> **Pepper – Rum-spiked brown sugar**
> 
> **Bruce – Green tea shortbread**
> 
> **Tony – Peanut butter cookies studded with (only red) Smarties**
> 
> **Steve – ANZAC biscuits (he picked up the addiction fighting alongside Australians in WWII)**
> 
> **Natasha – Russian tea biscuits (flavoured with vodka and hazelnuts)**
> 
> **Sam – Coconut macaroons**
> 
> **Thor – Chocolate cookies with soft chocolate fudge centres (they remind him of pop-tarts)**
> 
> **Jane – Raspberry star cookies**
> 
> **Rhodey – Nutmeg maple butter cookies**
> 
> **Maria Hill – Almond biscotti**
> 
> **Fury – Gingerbread men (he likes to bite off their heads…)**
> 
> **Darcy – likes all the cookies. She doesn’t play favourites.**


	3. My Witch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **I got asked for more Clint/Wanda, so the smut in latter part of this chapter is going to focus on the two of them.**

“Did you pick a day yet?”

“Say what?” Pietro lowered the tablet he was playing with. Stark still couldn’t make one fast enough for him, though this latest effort was getting there.

“I said,” Tony pushed himself out from under the machine he was working on, grinning upside-down at Pietro, “did you pick a day yet?”

“For what?”

“For your and Spooky’s birthday. I’m voting for International Beer Day.”

“There is not an International Beer Day. You’re making that up.”

“August first. Look it up,” Tony nodded at the tablet before sliding back under the machine. “Better get with Spooky and make your mind up, Speedy. Before Darcy erupts with impatience. She’s just dyin’ to throw you two a party.” His voice was muffled.

“And stop calling us Spooky and Speedy,” Pietro said as an afterthought.

“Glinda and Cheetah?”

“That’s possibly worse.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Pietro headed off to look for Wanda. He’d checked half a dozen places before it occurred to him to ask JARVIS. He still wasn’t quite used to the AI being omnipresent in the Tower.

“Miss Maximoff is in the shooting range with Mr Barton, sir,” JARVIS said politely.

“Oh. Are they doing anything I wouldn’t want to see?” he asked warily.

“Not at this time, sir.”

“Then you’d better take me straight there before they start up.” He could swear the AI’s voice was amused as the elevator started to move.

Pietro found Wanda sitting cross legged on a counter at the back of the shooting range, watching Clint shoot. The archer was good, Pietro had to admit, never missing any of the holographic targets JARVIS created for him, no matter how tricky the shot. Wanda was sitting with her chin in her hands, watching with apparent fascination. Pietro boosted himself up to the counter to sit beside her, and she leaned against him almost unconsciously. He put his arm around her shoulders, feeling with pleasure the way she no longer felt so frail, like a baby bird. Regular, healthy food and Barton’s love and care really were doing wonders for her.

For a long moment they sat comfortably together, not needing to fill the silence with words. And then Wanda tilted her head slightly, pressed her fingers against his knee.

“It’s Darcy,” Pietro answered the unspoken question. “She’s upset that we don’t have a birthday. Wants to have a party for us. We should choose a day.”

Wanda smiled.

“I am _not_ wrapped around her little finger! Oh hell, all right, yes I am,” he muttered when one delicate eyebrow twitched.

It was a very private smile as Wanda’s eyes slid back to Clint.

“And you can stop it with the female solidarity. You’re supposed to be on my side, not rejoicing that I’ve turned into a slave to Darcy’s every whim.”

Finally, Wanda spoke. “You said it, not me.”

Pietro groaned and put his free hand over his face. Wanda chuckled and nudged him gently in the ribs. “I’m happy for you. Truly. She’s a good person, Pietro, you’re lucky.”

They sat quietly for a few more moments, and then Wanda said, “I don’t mind, Pietro. Did you have a day in mind?”

He shook his head. “Stark suggested International Beer Day. Yes, there is such a holiday,” when she lifted a brow at him. “He challenged me to look, so I did, and I came across this website – there’s a day for everything, it seems like. Just an excuse to celebrate _something_ on any given day of the year.”

Wanda smiled. “So what appealed to you?”

“June 29th.”

“Dare I ask?”

He smiled, turned his head and kissed her brow. “It’s Hug Holiday.”

“You utter sap.” But she leaned into him a little closer. They’d both been starved of touch too long, imprisoned in their glass-walled cells by HYDRA’s torturer-scientists. Affectionate touch was something they both treasured, and of their fellow Avengers, only Thor and Sam were really comfortable with platonic touch. Pepper was surprisingly generous with hugs, but it was Darcy who both of them turned to most frequently when they felt the need for human touch, and she was unsparing in her affection, quite willing to dish out hugs even unasked.

The snap of Clint’s bowstring had fallen silent, and Pietro looked up to find the archer walking back towards them, smiling slightly. He returned the smile a little hesitantly, gently lowering his arm from around Wanda as Clint reached them. The smile on his sister’s face was absolutely breathtaking as she scrambled off the bench and moved into Clint’s arms.

“I’ll leave you two alone,” Pietro decided hastily as he saw Wanda’s hands slide down to grasp Clint’s butt. He’d already overheard one (one too many) giggled conversation between Wanda and Darcy about the merits of Hawkeye’s posterior.

“Catch you later, Quickie,” Clint said tauntingly.

“Only quick when I need to be, Katniss,” Pietro bolted for the door as he heard Clint unzip Wanda’s jacket.

“He’s still not dealing real well with you and me, is he, honey?” Clint murmured against Wanda’s hair as she leaned against him, her cheek on his chest.

“He’s doing better than I could have expected, actually,” she smiled up at him, and as always he was knocked sideways by the impact of just how beautiful she was. “I think he’s realised just how hypocritical he’s being about not wanting me to sleep with you, considering that he’s busy banging Darcy’s brains out at every opportunity.”

Clint sighed, running his fingers into her silky dark hair. “Mm. Though there isn’t a fifteen year age gap between him and Darce.”

“How many times do I have to tell you, I don’t care that you’re older than me?” She reached up to kiss him softly. “You know that saying, you’re only as old as the woman you feel?”

He arched his eyebrows at her. “In my case, I think that could be adapted to _you’re only as old as the woman you love makes you feel_.”

“Uh, what?” she blinked innocently at him.

“Don’t you dare. I know very well you’ve been using your spooky voodoo hexes on me.”

“I wouldn’t do that.” Another innocent blink.

“Wanda. My left knee has been sore for the last nine years, ever since I took a bullet through it in Budapest. Miraculously, in the last fortnight, it’s stopped hurting. It actually took me a while to notice, though. It’s not the only ache and pain of middle age that’s strangely faded out, either.”

She crumbled at his knowing look. “I just don’t want you to be in pain,” she whispered, burying her face in his neck. “Not when I could do something about it. I love you too much to see you hurting, Clint…”

“I’m not complaining, darlin’,” he stroked her hair gently. “I’m just sayin’ that you shouldn’t have been doin’ it behind my back. I’m _grateful_ , not mad.”

“You – are?” she peeped up at him, and he remembered that she’d been reproached and punished, perhaps even severely, for using her power at any time when she hadn’t been ordered to.

“Yes, I am.” He lifted her back to the counter she’d been sitting on, pushed her jacket off her shoulders. “Gonna show you just how grateful. And the benefits. I’m definitely feeling more athletic these days.”

Wanda giggled as he swooped in and kissed her neck. “Ah, that’s why I did it, I remember now.” His calloused fingers were sliding up her legs, pushing her skirt up her thighs. “Oh, Clint,” it was a breathy moan as he reached his goal.

“You wicked girl,” he startled, “you’re not wearing any underwear!”

“Must have forgotten them,” she murmured, looking up at him through her lashes, and he growled deep in his chest. And then she dipped into her cleavage and removed a foil packet.

“Why do I have the feeling that you came down here with the full intention of seducing me?” he murmured laughingly, taking the packet from her hand and putting it down on the counter.

“Whatever gave you that idea?” she moaned again as his fingers moved, sliding slowly into her slick core.

“You’re wet,” he whispered hotly in her ear. “Did watching me shoot turn you on?”

“Y-yes. You’re so powerful when you shoot. So focussed, in control. Ah-ah!” as his thumb rotated swiftly over her clit. Wanda’s head fell back, the ends of her long dark hair brushing the countertop, and Clint groaned lustfully.

“Fuck, you’re so gorgeous.” He went to his knees between her legs, pulling her hips right to the edge of the counter, her skirt up over her groin. At eye level with her pussy, he smiled hungrily and leaned in.

Wanda cried out at the first swipe of his hot tongue. Sobbed as two long fingers thrust deep inside her, beginning a swift rhythm, his tongue lapping at her clit in perfect time.

He knew exactly how to touch her. How to push her quickly up to that cliff edge of pleasure and _keep_ her there, teetering precariously, sobbing his name, the fingers of one hand clenching in his short blond hair, trying to push him harder against her. It wasn’t until she cried out “Please!” (in Latvian, not English, but he’d picked up enough to understand her) that he let her come, twisting his fingers just right as he suckled on her clit.

Clint smiled as Wanda collapsed back onto the counter, her heels digging into his back as her body arched and she keened out her pleasure. With a few last gentle strokes he slipped his fingers from her and reached for the condom, unfastening his belt with his other hand.

Wanda moaned as Clint turned her over, his strong hands manipulating her easily. She summoned enough strength to brace her hands on the counter as he brushed her skirt up over her bottom and pushed slowly into her. She bit her lip against the intense pleasure, the friction against already sensitised flesh. Felt one hand gather her hair at the nape of her neck, his hot mouth against her throat as he tugged gently on her hair.

“Yes,” she whimpered frantically, trying to grind back against him. His other arm curled around her hip and he started playing with her clit again. “Ah, Clint, that’s – too much!”

He slowed his thrusts at once, letting her catch her breath, though he didn’t stop playing with her clit, nor his nipping and sucking on her neck. Later on, she would look in the mirror at the marks he’d left, touch her fingers to them and smile possessively. _Proud_ that he’d chosen to mark her, to let the world know that she was his alone.

But right now he was still buried deep inside her, his hand letting go of her hair and stroking slowly down her spine. “You all right, darlin’?” Clint whispered softly as her breathing steadied.

“Mm,” was about all she could say. “Feels so good.”

“I know. Perfect. _You’re_ perfect, my witch…”

She didn’t mind when _he_ called her _witch_. From anyone else there was an undertone of fear – but never from Clint. From the first moment he’d looked past the red glow on her hands and seen the terrified, lost girl who only desperately wanted someone to love her.

“Sorceress,” he murmured, licking at her earlobe, making her shudder. “Enchantress. _Ah_ , hell, Wanda!” as she deliberately clenched around him.

“Shut up and fuck me, Clint!” she panted.

“Whatever you want, baby,” he groaned, and then both big hands settled on her hips and he started to move, rough, jerking thrusts that told her he was nearing his end too. “Come on, darlin’, come with me, I know you can,” he growled against her throat, listening to the sounds she made, feeling the flutterings of her body beginning to tighten around him again. And then she dropped to her elbows, changing the angle of his thrusts inside her, and Clint was gone, pouring deep into her welcoming heat with a shout of triumph, listening to her soft cries as sleek wet muscles contracted tightly around his cock.

“Aaah,” Clint dropped his forehead to Wanda’s back, holding her close against him as she shuddered, her body milking him hard until finally she relaxed with a low moan. “You okay baby?” he stroked her back and hips gently, easing carefully out of her.

“Mm,” she pushed back off the counter, turned to face him, her dark eyes glazed over with pleasure as she smiled up at him. He couldn’t help but lift his hands to her face, thumbs brushing gently over her cheekbones as he bent his head to kiss her.

“I love you,” he whispered it soft but heartfelt, felt her smile against his mouth. And then her slender hands landed on his biceps, squeezing and kneading the thick muscle.

“I love you, too,” Wanda said back as she gazed up into his blue-grey eyes. “So much.”

“Let’s get out of here. I have a sudden desire to spend the rest of the day in bed with you. There’s no way I’ll be able to concentrate on anything else now knowing that you’ve got no panties on under this dress.”

She laughed as he fastened his pants hastily before lifting her into his arms. It was a good thing he was willing and able to carry her, Wanda mused, because her knees were still weak. She linked her arms around Clint’s neck and rested her cheek against his shoulder, still smiling as he carried her towards the elevator.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **More Darcy/Pietro next chapter, I promise, but I have been asked to show a bit more of Clint and Wanda’s relationship, so here! Have another pile of smut!**


	4. Party Planning Fail

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Darcy attempts to plan the birthday party. Pietro’s much more interested in other things._

 

Darcy squealed with delight when Pietro told her rather sheepishly that he and Wanda had chosen a date for their arbitrary birthday. And then she squealed with horror. “But that’s only a week away!”

He shrugged. “Why would that matter?”

“These things take _time_ to organise, Pietro, and not everyone lives at warp speed like you do!”

“Darcy,” he reached for her and pulled her into his arms, bending his head to kiss her. “Neither Wanda nor I care if we just have a shop-bought cake and a Chinese takeout. As long as our friends are there – and when you boil it right down, as long as Clint and you are there – it’ll be the best damn birthday we could ask for.”

She smiled against his lips. “That’s just made me more determined than ever, you realise.”

“Best-laid plans, _mei_ _ča_. Don’t get too carried away. You know if you do, the Assemble alarm will go off and we’ll all get called away,” he warned pessimistically.

“Bite your tongue!”

He looked puzzled, and she remembered, again, that English wasn’t his first language and he was occasionally bemused by colloquialisms. “I mean, don’t say things like that. Think positive. Nothing bad’s going to happen and I’m going to make sure you have the best birthday ever.” Her hands slid down his front. “And then I’ll give you the best birthday _present_ ever,” she purred, looking up at him through her lashes.

Pietro’s eyes gleamed back at her. “I think I’d like to unwrap _that_ early,” and he was suddenly whisking her off her feet and zooming them to her apartment. Darcy let out a small shriek and buried her face in his neck – it was seriously disconcerting and not a little nauseating to see everything move so fast – and then he was easing her down on her bed, tugging her shirt up and off over her head before he let her lie down.

“I’ve told you not to do that!” she batted at his shoulders gently.

“Did you? I must not have understood you.” He thickened his accent quite deliberately, watched her eyelids flutter and her breasts start to heave as she began to pant. “Sometimes, my English isn’t so good.”

“You’re such an asshole,” she moaned as he unfastened her jeans.

“That word, see, I don’t know that one. Does it mean ‘sex god’?”

“Fuck you!” but she was laughing, wriggling out of her jeans as he pushed them down.

“Oh, I’d certainly like it if you did that, _mei_ _ča_ ,” he purred, kissing his way up her inner thigh, nuzzling against panties that were decidedly damp, sliding deft fingers into the waistband to pull them downwards. “You can fuck me any way you like.”

“You’re so damn snarky with that mouth,” Darcy said, but she trailed off in a moan as he buried his face between her thighs and started suckling on her clit. He pulled off long enough to say;

“You like my mouth,” but she couldn’t even hear him over her own breathless cries of ecstasy.

He was _very_ good with his mouth. Especially when he used his tongue at that particular frequency of vibration that he’d quickly learned drove her utterly mad. Darcy sobbed as he stopped suddenly, right at the edge of her climax.

“P-please! Oh god, oh Pietro, _please_ …”

He chuckled again and plunged two fingers deep inside her suddenly. Darcy squealed and clenched down on him convulsively, her heels drumming on the mattress as her back arched.

“So fucking beautiful,” Pietro couldn’t help but groan, staring at her in awe, at the blissful expression on her face, at the way her dark hair tangled as she tossed her head from side to side, her plush lips swollen and pink as she bit at them. He prolonged the climax for her as long as he could, but eventually she reached down and grabbed at his wrist, stilling his hand.

“Get undressed,” Darcy panted, her eyes still closed as she recovered. Pietro slipped his hand from her and she felt the bed shift as he got up, heard the soft sounds of him stripping his clothes off. She opened her eyes because she didn’t want to miss the show, smiled with pleasure as she caught sight of him with his arms up over his head pulling his shirt off. He might not be as bulky as some of the other Avengers, but he was gorgeous, broad-shouldered and leanly muscled like an Olympic swimmer. And more than strong enough to hold her not-particularly-light form up against the shower wall and screw her until she couldn’t walk straight, as she’d already discovered.

He was fishing in the nightstand drawer for a condom, ripping the foil with his teeth before rolling the rubber on down his (very erect) cock. Darcy eyed him hungrily as he knelt on the bed beside her.

“What do you want, _mei_ _ča_?” he asked softly.

“Lay down,” she said, after thinking about it for a moment. She still had her bra on, which was surprising considering how much he loved her breasts. Unfastening it and tossing it aside, she grinned as he licked his lips, unable to look away from her breasts even as he laid down on his back. “See something you like, Quicksilver?”

She didn’t use his code name often, but there was something about the intensity of his expression at that moment that caused it to slip out.

She didn’t understand the guttural words he growled out in return, and he shook his head in impatience, realising he’d failed to speak in English. “You’re beautiful, Darcy. I adore everything about you. Come put those fabulous tits in my face. Please.”

“Well,” she smiled, “since you asked so nicely…” she swung a leg across his lean hips, straddling his body, and leaned forward.

Pietro groaned as Darcy’s generous, pillowy breasts tumbled into his face. Kissing at them eagerly, he reached his hands up, filling them to overflowing with soft white flesh, flicking quickly at her erect nipples with the tips of his thumbs before sucking one into his mouth and worrying at it gently with his tongue and teeth.

Darcy moaned as he expertly teased her breasts, and then his free hand slid down in between them and curled up into her cleft, rubbing over her still-sensitive clit until she began to shake, clawing at the sheets and letting out breathy little cries. Letting her nipple out of his mouth with a _pop_ , he settled both hands on her hips and held her still, planting his heels on the mattress before pushing slowly up into her, his cock sinking into her agonisingly slowly.

She cried out his name and tried to push down harder, but he held on tight, not letting her move until he was ready. “Steady, _mei_ _ča_ ,” he said through gritted teeth. “Steady, or I’ll come too quick for you. You feel so good. So wet and tight, you make me want you so bad.” He was concentrating to say it in English, make sure she understood, and knew from the way she smiled softly down at him that she did.

“You’re so hard,” Darcy whispered back as he finally let her sink all the way down on him, seating herself on his hips. “So thick, _so_ hard – I feel _stretched_.”

“It doesn’t hurt you?” he checked. “Never want to hurt you, _mei_ _ča_ …”

“Only in a good way,” she groaned as he rotated his hips in a slow circle. “ _Pietro_.” As he returned his fingers to playing with her clit again.

“Want to feel you come on me,” he almost snarled it, blue eyes locked with hers. “Ride me, Darcy, milk me dry, take it all.”

She moaned again at the filthy words, and then leaned forward and grabbed onto the headboard behind his head. He let out a delighted gasp as her breasts swung in his face, kissed at them, turned his head to catch a nipple between his lips and suckle on it as Darcy rocked back and forth against him, sliding slickly along the length of his arousal.

“ _Darcy_ ,” he growled out a minute or so later, letting her nipple slip from his mouth. “I need – I need _faster_.”

She was so close to orgasm she wouldn’t have cared what he asked for at that moment. “Yes,” was all she moaned, and suddenly he was flipping them over, pressing her down to her back, his elbows hooking under her knees as he thrust harder and faster, faster, _faster_ … Darcy’s back bowed and she let out a scream of ecstasy as the climax hit like a tidal wave.

Pietro cried out as well as her muscles tightened around him in a wet, sucking clasp that felt like a bolt of lightning straight up his spine. He stilled, letting her legs drop to the mattress, leaning down on his hands and breathing hard, eyes closed as little aftershocks rippled through him. And then he groaned theatrically and collapsed down onto Darcy, though he made sure to catch his weight on his elbows and not crush her.

She laughed softly and put her arms around him, stroking her hands down his back. He kissed her, long and slow, savouring her mouth before pressing his face against her neck and just breathing in her scent as she held him close.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“God damn it, Pietro,” Darcy complained a little later, “all that precious party planning time, wasted!”

“I would not say it was time wasted, _mei_ _ča_ , indeed I would say it was time very well spent,” he arched his eyebrows at her.

Darcy laughed a very satisfied laugh into the pillow. He smirked happily. “Stop stressing about a party, _mei_ _ča_. Buy some alcohol and a cake. That’ll do fine.”

 _It will most certainly_ not _do fine_ , Darcy didn’t say out loud. _Buy_ a cake, indeed! Grandma Lewis would roll over in her grave. The alcohol was probably a good idea, though. Considering how much the Avengers could drink when they got going. Though she could almost certainly leave that to JARVIS. And the invites. Almost everyone who Pietro and Wanda would want at the party lived in the Tower anyway, there were only really Rhodey and Sam who weren’t resident, and Sam was moving into the apartment Tony had set up for him in a couple of weeks…

“That’s your thinking face again,” Pietro chided, “stop worrying about the damn party. Seriously. And no balloons. If they go pop you’ll have a whole bunch of superheroes, all of whom have PTSD in varying degrees, blowing holes in Stark’s walls. Again.”

That – was quite true. Darcy mentally crossed surprise _anything_ off her lists. Which pretty much left… Spin The Bottle. Or Seven Minutes In Heaven. Though _she_ had no plans to be kissing, or spending time in a closet, with anyone other than Pietro. And Clint would probably go super-assassin on anyone who even _looked_ at Wanda sideways. Fun though it would be to try and shove Tony and Bruce in a closet together. Or Tony and Steve. Or Tony and Rhodey, come to think of it. Steve and anybody. Darcy snort-laughed into her pillow at the thought.

“That’s a wicked laugh, please don’t do whatever you’re plotting.”

“No, I don’t think I could get anyone to go along with it,” Darcy said. She tried to tell him about Seven Minutes In Heaven, and then had to explain from the beginning the point of the game.

“Ah, so it’s just an excuse for teenagers to randomly make out in closets?” Pietro summed up accurately.

“… Yes? It works best if everyone playing is rather attractive. Which is most definitely the case here. Let’s face it, thinking about any random pair of the Avengers getting it on could fuel my spank bank fantasies for _weeks_. And did, before you came along.”

Pietro had to laugh. “Well,” he murmured, his hands curving over her breasts again, “I’d hope I keep you satisfied enough that you don’t _need_ to be fantasising about my team-mates.”

“Don’t worry,” she ran her fingers into his thick silvery hair, tugged until he kissed her, and then smirked at him, “you and that damnable accent of yours are the only thing that’s been featuring in my fantasies for a while now.”

He chuckled darkly. “You’re getting used to the accent. You don’t have to hold onto a chair any more when I speak.”

“True. My panties still get wet, though.”

His blue eyes flew very wide, and then he laughed. “Do they! I shall have to test that out sometime.” His fingers trailed down her belly. “Maybe now?”

“I’m not wearing panties.”

“No, but you are wet for me,” his voice dropped to a low, husky rasp. And if she hadn’t already been lying down, Darcy’s knees would indeed have given up the ghost once again. She made a small keening sound instead as he started to play with her clit again, saw him smile.

“Asshole,” she panted out.

“There’s that word again. I still don’t know what it means. Is it a word for _please_? _Please, more, Pietro_ , is that what you’re trying to say?”

She could only sob with want as two long fingers plunged deep suddenly. “Please,” she whimpered as he withdrew them, tracing tantalising slow circles over her inner thighs.

“There, you see? I knew it.”

“You ass – _oh God_ , please!”

“You don’t have to call me God, either.”

“Pietro, shut up and fuck me!”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **He is SUCH an asshole. A very sexy one, though, so Darcy doesn’t really care.**
> 
> **Still at least one more chapter to go in this fic, because I really am going to write the birthday party. Eventually.**


	5. Birthdays Sometimes Just Suck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **The final chapter in this fic.**

The morning of the day Pietro had chosen for his and Wanda’s birthday celebration dawned bright and clear. And extremely pleasant for Quicksilver, as he woke to the delicious sensation of his girlfriend’s tongue caressing his cock.

“Darcy,” he moaned her name, still half-asleep for a few seconds, heard her husky laugh before she opened her mouth and took him in deep. “Ah, hell, Darcy!” he had to fight not to arch up, to shove himself into her throat, “oh, _meiča_ , that feels so good, your _mouth_ ,” he babbled as she bobbed her head.

She took him a little deeper, relaxing her throat before _humming_ around the head of his cock, and his eyes rolled back in his head. “Darcy,” he panted, “I’m going to come.”

Pietro probably had no idea that he wasn’t speaking English, but she’d heard those particular words in Latvian a fair few times now and had a pretty good idea of what they meant. Darcy smiled around him and bobbed her head a little quicker, listening to his strangled groan, feeling with her lips the hard pulse travelling up his cock as he exploded into her mouth.

Darcy hummed with satisfaction, swallowing him down and then licking him clean, knowing he was watching her, his blue eyes half-lidded. He was more than half-hard again by the time she’d finished, and she laughed quietly.

“Want me to do that again, birthday boy?” She slid her lips teasingly over the swollen head, flickered her tongue into the slit at the very tip.

“Clearly this is the best birthday I ever had,” Pietro said to the ceiling, “thank you very much, God.”

“I’d feel more complimented if it wasn’t the _only_ birthday you’ve ever had,” Darcy pulled off and grinned up at him.

"I am very sure I'll never have a better wake up call than your sweet mouth on my cock, though," he said with a grin, sitting up and reaching for her. Darcy smiled, pleased, let him wrap his arms around her and hug her close for a moment.

"So, she said cheerfully, "you got your birthday blowjob, and if Steve knows what's good for him he should already be in the kitchen making enough blueberry waffles to feed the ravening hordes. Anything else you'd like before we go to join him?"

"Oh, I think you know what I'd like, _meiča,_ " he murmured laughingly, laying back and pulling her across his body. "I'd very much like to hear you screaming my name as I fuck you into next week."

Darcy groaned as he slid between her legs; she was wet and slippery, and Pietro grinned up at her.

"Start without me, did you? No fair. You know I love to watch you touch yourself."

She did know that. He'd made it very clear. But she shook her head. "Didn’t need to. Just blowing you got me this wet."

" _Darcy._ " His eyes darkened. "You are..." he shook his head, unable to find the word he wanted in any language. "I love you."

"Wh-what?" Darcy blinked, a little stunned. He hadn’t actually said the words before, not in English, anyway, though she'd suspected him of babbling them in Latvian once or twice in the midst of their lovemaking.

"I love you. I'm utterly fucking hopelessly in love with you, didn't you know that by now?" Pietro stilled the gentle grinding movements he'd been making against Darcy's groin, looked up into her shocked dark blue eyes. "I think I've been in love with you since the very first day we met."

"Pietro..." Darcy wasn’t even sure what she was going to say. And her words would have to remain unspoken, for at that exact moment, the Assemble alarm went off.

"Oh, fucking hell, _no_!" Pietro shouted as Darcy startled and rolled off him. "What the fuck! JARVIS?"

"A genuine alarm, sir," JARVIS replied in regretful tones. "Serious problems in Wakanda."

He was already out of bed, speeding into his clothes. "That's in fucking Africa!"

"Yes, sir," JARVIS replied patiently. "Mr Stark and Colonel Rhodes are already en route. The quinjet will be taking off in six minutes."

Pietro let out a string of curses in Latvian, looking at Darcy sitting in her bed, arms wrapped around his knees, staring at him wide-eyed. Six minutes was more than enough time, with his speed... swiftly he pressed her to lie down on her back.

"I'm not going without the taste of you in my mouth, the sound of your cries in my ears," he told her roughly, "so hold on tight, _meiča_ , this is going to be a quick one."

Already aroused, it took less than sixty seconds for Darcy to come on his rapidly vibrating tongue. By the time her hammering heart had slowed, he was long gone, with a last kiss to her lips and a whispered;

"We'll be back in time for the party, _meiča_. I'll make sure of it."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Those who stayed behind in the Tower while their loved ones went out to save the world had developed a certain ritual. They’d gather in the penthouse – or the basement safe room if the attack was in New York – and stay together until the Avengers arrived back. No matter how long it took. Nobody wanted any of the others to go through the awful waiting alone, any more than any of them wanted to be alone.

They didn't turn on the TVs. JARVIS would keep them apprised of what was really happening,  not the rampant speculation which was all they would see on news channels.

The first couple of times Darcy had sat with Pepper and Jane in vigil (before Pietro and Wanda came to the Tower) they'd talked stiltedly for a while, until Darcy had raided the bar, poured them all drinks and insisted they watch a movie. Over time they'd discovered even better ways to pass the time. Gaming marathons were now the norm. They all settled down quietly and started playing Dragon Age: Inquisition. The drinking would come later, once they heard that the fight had started.

“What do we do about the party?” Pepper asked quietly, mid-morning, when they were taking a break for a little while. “Should I cancel the caterers?”

“No,” Darcy said stubbornly. “Pietro said he’d get here. He said he’d make sure they’d be back.”

Jane and Pepper exchanged glances. Eventually Pepper shrugged. “Frankly, if we cancel this late I’ll still have to pay them anyway. They may as well come.”

“Do you still want to make the cake, though, Darcy?” Jane asked hesitantly. “Because we should probably get on that.”

“Cakes,” Darcy corrected. “One for Pietro, one for Wanda. Yes – yes, let’s go do that. That’ll pass a few hours, won’t it?”

She tried not to see the pitying, understanding looks on Jane and Pepper’s faces as they nodded, agreeing with her. They were a lot more used to this than she was. Yes, she’d worried with them before when the Avengers went out, but she’d never been in love with one of the team before.

Darcy stopped halfway into the elevator. “Oh my God.”

“Darce?” Jane pushed at her gently, trying to move her. “Are you all right?”

“I’m in love with him.”

“Ye-es – oh, you hadn’t realised that yet?” Jane and Pepper looked at each other.

“Well, it’s not exactly the best of timing,” Pepper said diplomatically, “but I’m sure you can let him know when he gets back?”

“What if he doesn’t? Get back, I mean…” Darcy suddenly understood _exactly_ why it was that Jane couldn’t focus on Science! when Thor was out on a mission. And why Pepper’s hands gained that fine tremor every time JARVIS interrupted them with an update.

“You stop thinking like that _right now_ ,” Jane said very firmly, giving Darcy a surprisingly hard shove to move her into the elevator. “We’re going to go down to the kitchen and we’re going to make cakes. And then you’ve got a three o’clock appointment to collect Pietro and Wanda’s birthday presents, I believe? Happy can drive us and we’ll all go.”

Darcy bit her lip and then nodded. “Okay. Yes, okay, let’s go do cakes and pick up the presents and act like it’s all going to be fine and they’ll definitely be back in time for the party, right?”

“They will definitely be back in time for the party,” Jane and Pepper agreed in unison.

Jane and Pepper were actually both very good in the kitchen. Or at least Jane was when she focussed, which she was today. Yay for scientific precision and careful measurements. And Pepper was, as with everything else, super-organised, plus she had beautiful calligraphic handwriting, so Darcy got her to do the icing. Further taste tests on the twins had led Darcy to decide on a banana-and-cinnamon cake for Wanda, and given Pietro’s love of choc-cherry cookies the choice of a Black Forest gateaux had been pretty obvious for him.

Darcy lost herself in the baking, the familiar rhythms of the kitchen, the warm rich scent of the cakes as they came out of the oven, until finally Pepper nudged her.

“Happy will be ready to pick us up in ten. Let’s go clean up a bit.”

Darcy looked down at herself, at the cocoa-and-flour dusting of her clothes, and couldn’t help but laugh. “You might be right.”

“I know I am,” Pepper’s blue eyes twinkled. “I know they won’t care where we’re going how we look, but if we get the back of Tony’s Bentley messy we’ll never hear the end of it.”

“Does that mean I shouldn’t tell him what Thor and I did on the hood of his new Audi last week, then?” Jane asked, innocent-faced, and Darcy laughed properly. Jane could be such a troll at times.

“If I was you I would never, ever bring it up. JARVIS, make a note that I don’t want to drive the R9,” Pepper didn’t even break stride as she headed for the elevator. “Downstairs in ten minutes, girls.”

Ten minutes was barely enough time for Darcy to change clothes, wash her face and carefully clean up a stray bit of whipped cream that had somehow got caught in her hair. She almost cried when she started thinking about how Pietro would probably have insisted on cleaning it up and then probably suggested a number of other filthy uses for leftover whipped cream. Well. There was plenty of it in the fridge. She could suggest it herself, when he got back. Darcy straightened her shoulders and headed for the door.

“Any news?” she couldn’t help but ask JARVIS in the elevator on the way down to the parking garage.

“The fight proceeds, Miss Lewis. The Avengers have sustained no significant injuries at this time,” JARVIS reassured quietly.

“What about less significant injuries?” she couldn’t help but ask.

JARVIS gave a very human-sounding sigh. “Do you really want to know about the scrape on Agent Romanoff’s elbow and the scratch on Ms. Maximoff’s chin? The bruise Prince Thor accidentally put on Agent Barton’s back?”

“No, it’s all right,” Darcy admitted sheepishly. “Just, significant injuries then. You’ll be keeping in touch with Pepper while we’re out?”

“Of course, Miss Lewis.” The door slid open then and Darcy forced a smile to her lips as she saw Pepper and Jane already waiting by the Bentley with Happy.

Darcy had to wonder how many people rocked up to an animal shelter in a Bentley. But the staff didn’t turn a hair, and soon they were on their way again, Darcy and Jane each holding a cat carrier on their laps. Clint and Darcy had come by earlier in the week and chosen the two young cats – one male, one female, already friends – and Darcy had arranged to collect them today, after they’d received their vaccinations and been desexed.

The half-grown female kitten – Clint’s gift for Wanda – was pure black save for a single white spot on her chest. She had long soft fur and mewed very quietly, batting gently at Jane’s fingers through the bars of the carrier.

Pietro’s cat was a shorthaired steel-grey animal with a ragged ear who the shelter staff thought might be a Russian Blue. Beyond a single enraged squall when put in the carrier, he hadn’t made a sound, just squatted thoughtfully and stared up at Darcy.

“Hey, buddy,” Darcy whispered softly, reaching a finger into the carrier to rub the cat’s head. “You’ll get to meet your new person soon. He’ll be back real soon. He’s gonna be so happy to meet you.”

Bright green eyes watched her for a moment, and then the cat began a faint crackly purr which soon grew in volume until it sounded as though there was a miniature tractor in the back of the car.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The three women headed back up to the penthouse, cats in tow. Pepper was completely unbothered about letting them loose to run around her space – she liked cats – although she did insist on putting out a litter box and showing the cats where to find it. Which was smart, Darcy had to admit.

It was Jane who cracked first this time and asked JARVIS for an update on what was happening in Wakanda. The answer that the fight was still continuing stressed all three of them out; there wasn’t much that could keep the Avengers engaged this long. Wordlessly, Pepper got up, headed to the bar and started making a pitcher of margaritas.

They were into the second pitcher when JARVIS informed them that the caterers had arrived and were setting up on the common floor. But the Avengers still weren’t on their way back, and when Pepper got up and headed wordlessly off to go see to the caterers, Darcy found herself beginning to sniffle.

“Don’t cry, Darce,” Jane moved closer on the couch, put her arms around her friend. “Please. They’ll get back, it’s all going to be fine.”

“I just,” Darcy sniffled into Jane’s shoulder, “I just wish I’d had the chance to tell him I loved him before he left. He said it this morning and I was so shocked, it wasn’t until after he’d gone that I realised how much I love him too…”

Pietro’s cat hopped up on the couch beside Darcy, pawed at her leg. She grabbed it up for a cuddle, sobbed a few distraught tears into the dense grey fur. The cat, surprisingly, didn’t struggle, going limp in her arms. Perhaps it sensed that she needed comfort.

Pepper returned as Darcy was getting herself back under control, accompanied by U bearing a tray of delicious little morsels selected from the catering downstairs.

“We’re certainly not going to let all this deliciousness go to waste,” Pepper said bracingly, gesturing to U to put the tray down on the coffee table. “Tuck in, girls.”

Jane, with her low body mass and a complete lack of alcohol tolerance, was the first to pass out. Pepper and Darcy laid her down on a couch and covered her with a blanket. Both cats settled down happily atop the sleeping astrophysicist.

“How do you do this?”  Darcy asked in a low voice, following Pepper back to the bar as the older woman picked up the empty margarita pitcher. “You and Tony. You’ve been together for, what, six years now? Didn’t you get together right about when he became Iron Man? I mean, I know you were briefly superpowered as well…”

“Very briefly, thank God,” Pepper still shuddered at the memory of the Extremis burning through her veins. “Look, I just – you just have to deal with it. Tony wouldn’t be Tony if he wasn’t Iron Man, I know that now. Yes, he’d like to be able to stop fighting. But after Ultron, I think he’s realised that it’s not possible. The world needs the Avengers, Darcy. And they need each other. Pietro’s one of them already, do you know how many times he’s saved Clint or Nat or even Steve from serious injury in the last few weeks?”

Darcy blinked, shook her head. “He doesn’t – talk about missions.”

“Ugh,” Pepper couldn’t help but laugh, thinking about how Tony never let anyone hear the end of how he saved the day on missions. “Well, he probably should. To somebody, even if not you. But I can assure you he’s very much a valued member of the team. As are you.” She handed Darcy a full margarita glass. “Now let’s get drunk and wait for them to get back.”

The quinjet landed about an hour after midnight and the weary Avengers – plus Maria Hill, who’d gone with them as an extra pilot – staggered out. Filthy and exhausted, they all wanted nothing more than their beds.

There was a big room behind the quinjet hangar where the team often found themselves hanging out. A common area, they often gravitated here.

“Guys,” Steve, the first through the door from the hangar, stopped dead. “Whoah. Look.”

They all crowded in behind him, staring in silence.

The room was beautifully decorated, tinsel and streamers and sparkling fairy lights, though not a balloon in sight. Banners hung at each end of the room, one saying _Happy Birthday Wanda_ and the other _Happy Birthday Pietro_. There were bottles of champagne in buckets of melting ice, covered platters of food on the tables.

“So much effort,” Pietro said, staring around. “They did all this since we left this morning.”

“So much love,” Wanda whispered softly. “And it’s past midnight…”

“A good birthday party always goes on until at least dawn,” Tony said after a moment, straightening weary shoulders. “Ten minutes to clean off any evidence of blood and gore and report back here, Avengers. Where are the ladies, JARVIS?”

“In the penthouse, sir,” JARVIS flashed an image up on the screen, Jane asleep on one couch and Pepper and Darcy on the other.

“Well, since I’m the only one not covered in yark, I shall go fetch them,” Tony said cheerfully.

“We don’t all get to hide in a splatter-proof suit,” Clint muttered to his back. Wanda, leaning against him, laughed wearily.

“He’s right. We do need a shower.”

“Separately,” Pietro called after the two of them, “or you two won’t end up coming back to the party, and it’s partly your party, sister!”

“Don’t worry Maximoff, I’m too tired for anything like that,” Clint called over his shoulder with a chuckle.

“You could sleep, if you’re tired,” Wanda looked up at him.

“And miss your party? Not happening, my enchantress. Let’s go get cleaned up. I want to see you wear that beautiful red dress I know you bought last week. And I didn’t give you your birthday present yet.”

“Did you not?” she smiled up at him, reaching for a kiss. She knew what her gift was, of course – it was almost impossible for her _not_ to read Clint’s mind, especially when they were intimate – and the idea delighted her. But she was happy enough to let him think he was surprising her. And she was _very_ keen to see Pietro’s reaction.

Pietro, of course, was washed and changed before everyone else. He debated heading up to the penthouse, but maybe Darcy wasn’t still there – or maybe she was in her apartment getting changed… in the end he just shrugged and headed back to the party area. Might as well make himself useful and uncover some of those platters of delicious food. And not incidentally, eat some of it.

Steve and Thor, both of whom had metabolisms that ran similarly to Pietro’s, turned up within a couple of minutes with the same idea. Fortunately whoever had organised the food – all three of them bet on Pepper – had taken that into account and there were plenty of deliciously caloric snacks available. There were even some of them left when the others arrived.

It was fortunate that Pietro didn’t have a mouthful of food when Darcy walked in, because he would probably have choked on it. She looked amazing in a figure-hugging royal blue gown, her dark hair tumbling around white shoulders, her soft bosom swelling above the dress’s low neckline. But it was her smile he focussed on, her warm, welcoming smile, her blue eyes joyous as she saw him.

She saw his blue eyes, his silver-blond hair, for only a moment before he blurred and reappeared before her, her, hair lifting and settling in the wind of his passage, and then his lips were pressing down on hers, warm and firm, his stubble rasping her chin.

Pietro could have lost himself forever in kissing Darcy. He only got to for a few seconds, though, before there was an angry squall and the cat he hadn’t noticed held in Darcy’s arms, unimpressed at behind squished between them, sank its claws into Pietro’s stomach.

“Ai!” he stepped back, startled, and the cat came with him, claws caught in his shirt. Chuckling, Pietro caught the animal, cradling it in his arms. “Hello, little friend,” he murmured with a chuckle, reaching a finger to scratch under the cat’s chin, rewarded at once by a rumbling purr. “And who might you be?”

“Happy birthday,” Darcy said with a tremulous smile.

“Hm?” he looked up from the purring cat. Saw her looking at him, nodding to the cat. “ For… me?” he blinked in astonishment.

“All yours.” Darcy stepped close, lifted her fingers to stroke the cat’s fur. “What will you name him?”

Pietro looked down at the cat, a little stunned. “ _Resgalis_ ,” he said after a few moments of thought. “It means, mischief.”

“Let us hope you are not tempting Fate, brother,” Wanda’s voice said behind him, and he turned to see her with a black cat riding her shoulder.

“You do realise how very witchy that makes you look?” Pietro couldn’t help but chuckle. She only smiled her mysterious smile.

“I called her _Neziņa_.”

“Of course you did. It means darkness, obscured – suspense,” he translated for Darcy. She laughed.

“You’re really not doing anything to convince Tony that your nickname shouldn’t be Spooky, Wanda!”

“Oh, what a beautiful cat,” Natasha walked in at that moment, saw the cat on Wanda’s shoulder, then Resgalis in Pietro’s arms. “Two of them for the birthday kids? Well aren’t you two lucky.”

“The VIP has arrived, you can start the party now!” Tony announced loudly at that moment, making his entrance with Pepper on his arm.

“It’s not _your_ birthday party,” Natasha pointed out.

“Still the most important person here,” Tony winked at her cheerfully. “Why aren’t any of these champagne bottles open? Get on that right now, Barton!”

Clint laughed and detached from Wanda’s side. Soon the champagne was flowing and everyone was gradually getting into the party mood. Natasha kidnapped Pietro’s cat almost immediately and settled onto a sofa, petting him.

“Looks like someone else might need a cat,” Darcy nodded towards the Russian.

“No overrunning my Tower with the little monsters, now,” Tony said firmly.

“Animals are good therapy, Stark,” Sam said easily. “And considering as how pretty much everyone who lives here has PTSD to some degree… a few cats would probably be really good for the team, actually.”

Pietro tugged gently on Darcy’s arm, drawing her away from the amiable bickering. She went with him willingly, turning her face up to smile at him.

“You really weren’t hurt today?” she asked softly.

“Not so much as a scratch. Really.” He smiled down at her, lifted his hands to frame her face. “Thank you for this, Darcy. For all this.” He gestured around the room, at the wreckage of the cakes she’d made so lovingly. “I know it’s the first birthday party I’ve ever had, so I’d sound a bit dumb saying it’s the best one ever – but I do know it’s the one I’ll always remember.”

“Don’t say things like that, you’ll make me well up again.”

“Again?” he looked closer at her face, saw the faint red rims to her eyes. “Ah, _meiča_ – you wept, for me? Don’t, Darcy, don’t do that to yourself.”

“Can’t help it,” she sniffed, looking down, “love you too much.”

Pietro was silent for a stunned, incredulous moment, and then he wrapped his arms around Darcy and kissed her very thoroughly indeed. “I love you too, _meiča,_ ” he said softly, “always.”

 

**THE END.**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **I am aware that the ending to this might seem a bit abrupt. But the fact is, I made the mistake of going to see Age of Ultron (opened here in Oz on 23 April) before I finished this, and I am failing to deal quite spectacularly.**
> 
> **I am put in mind of my favourite Tumblr post, which says ‘The canon you are witnessing is experiencing a large amount of fail. Would you like to apply fanfic?’**
> 
> **FUCK YES I will be applying fanfic. Stupid-ass canon decisions. *grumbles*. Consider this the first instalment.**

**Author's Note:**

> **Note: the foreign words I’ve used here are Latvian. His accent sounded kind of Latvian, to me. Arbitrary but what the fuck.**
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>    
>  _meiča_ – babe (colloquial, as in pretty girl)  
>  _Ir jautri – Have fun_  
>   
>  _Gulēt labi_ – sleep well
> 
> **Please leave me a comment, hope you enjoyed!**


End file.
